Just the right side of wrong
by psychoqueen
Summary: Dean loves Sam, just not in a brotherly way. Warning Wincest, Noncon, Underage.


**Just the right side of wrong**

Warning - Noncon, Sam/Dean, Wincest - Angstathon

* * *

"It's too strong, Sam says, his voice tired and defeated. 

"It's here and now", Dean counters, sounding angry and pissed off, or annoyed. Or hurt. Sam can't decide.

"It's too soon", Sam continues, a melancholic smile tugging at the corner of his lips, a gentle sigh, then nothing but silence.

"It's what I want", Dean answers, his eyes suddenly cold.

"But ..."

"And it's what you want".

Sam lies down on the bed, Dean's bed, resting his head on Dean's pillow.

* * *

"It's not right", Sam argues as Dean begins to take off his clothes.

"It's not right", Dean agrees, lips pursed together. "It's just the right side of wrong".

Dean stands in front of the bed, looking down at Sam.

"I can't", Sam tries, shifting uncomfortably under Deans gaze. "I won't".

"You can", Dean hisses, black eyes piercing Sam's soul. "And you will".

"Why?", Sam questions, an eerie quality in his voice. Broken. Defeated.

"Because you love me", Dean answers, shrugs, climbing on top of Sam.

* * *

Sam lets Dean pin his arms over his head, like always. Lets Dean push his legs apart.

"I don't want this", Sam's voice is nothing but a whisper, too soft to be heard.

"Yes, you do", Dean says, his voice breaking a little.

"No".

Dean's hands are rough against Sam's skin. Punishing.

Marking him his.

"Yes".

* * *

Sam goes completely still. Hands clutching each side of the pillow. Dean's pillow.

Eyes securely closed against the tears, Sam's heart finally shuts down, leaving an empty shell

behind.

"Sammy, don't".

Sam's body finally gives in and just ... opens for Dean.

"Don't shut me out".

Sam lies naked against the sheets, spread eagled for his brother. Forever falling.

* * *

"You look so beautiful like this Sammy".

Dean's voice is filled with love and awe, want and need and desperation. Despair.

"Please, Oh god, please, please, Sammy, need to feel you, need to be in you, need you, want you so much. Can't breathe, can't live

without this. Please, don't take it away, Sammy, please don't leave me, stay, stay with me, Oh God, please ... ".

Sam tries to respond. Tries to forget the burn and the stretch. Tries to forgive. Because Dean's pain is so much more.

But he just ... can't.

Because it's wrong. It's wrong and it's sick and it's fucked up. And it's not love.

* * *

"I'm sorry", Sam says, his voice devoid of all emotion.

"I don't ...", he tries, but the words won't come.

I don't love you is on the tip of his tongue.

"Don't you say that", Dean whispers softly, gently, fear evident in his voice.

"I love you. You hear me? Sammy, you get what I'm saying here? I. Love. You!".

Sam lets out a pained laugh. "You don't know how to love, Dean".

He wants to regret the words, take them back. But he means every one of them.

* * *

Sam lets Dean fuck him. Slow and deliberate thrusts and slides, waiting for the pain

to become just the right side of pleasure, but it just ... won't. Not this time.

There's nothing but the sound of Dean's moans, Dean's animalistic grunts, snarls

and groans.

"You ungrateful little brat", Dean snarls, slamming into Sam's body, unforgiving and relentless.

"I have nothing besides you, Sammy. I've got nobody, and I'm all alone and I'm so fucking lonely so why the hell can't you just

let me have this?".

* * *

"You can have anyone you want, Dean", Sam says, voice sounding bitter and harsh.

It's true, he thinks. Looking up at Dean's beautiful face. They all wants him.

"You don't fucking get it Sam", Dean spits, crushing his lips against Sam's. "They fuck me,

because I'm pretty. They don't see me, and they never will!".

Sam snorts, sitting up in Dean's bed, dragging his fingers through his hair.

"So you just decided to fuck your baby brother instead?"

Sam half expects Dean to hit him.

* * *

"Don't do this, Sammy". The voice is pleading with him to stay.

Sam knows his brother thinks he loves him. But it's not love.

"I have to", he whispers to the shadow on his bed. "And you have to let me".

"Why?". The voice is suddenly angry, low and threatening. Sam flinches away from

the hand that tries to hold him back. "Don't go".

"If you only would stop forcing me to love you ...", Sam whispers shakingly. He can

almost hear Dean's heart breaking as he gets up from the bed and turns to leave.

* * *

"So stanford huh?" Sam clutches his cellphone, listening to the strain in Dean's voice

as he tries to sound happy for him.

"Yeah, it's cool, met some new and interesting people here, made some friends", Sam says a bit

to cheerfully. It's what he doesn't say that Dean picks up almost immediately. "What's her name?"

Sam sighs, looking away towards the football field, closes his eyes for a second, imagining strong hands

holding him down, Dean's legs straddling him.

"Her name is Jessica", he answers quietly, but no longer defeated.

* * *

"Knew you'd come back to this", Dean says and smiles as he reaches for Sam, grabbing him around the waist,

pulling off his towel.

"I didn't", Sam answers, but doesn't flinch away from Dean's touch. "I didn't come back for this".

Dean pulls Sam down on top of him, laughing. He sounds so much younger when he laugh, so much more innocent.

But Dean's anything but innocent. "Please, Sammy, please let me, I love you so much". So it's back to this, Sam thinks.

Back to normal for the Winchester brothers. Back to fucking and hunting and slowly dying and whithering away.

"Shut up, Dean", Sam says sharply, getting off of his brother. "Just shut the fuck up".

* * *

"Why, Sammy, why ...", Jess cries out, looking down at Sam with burning hatred in her eyes.

"NO!", Sam screams before feeling Dean's hand on his shoulder. "Wake up, Sam, just a nightmare", Dean says,

his voice sounding cocky and confident, without a trace of uncertainty. The grin on Dean's face looks nothing like

the smiles he used to give Sam back when everything was still normal between them. Back when they were just brothers,

just Sam and Dean and Dean was his great protector.

"I miss you", is on the tip of Sam's tongue everytime, but he keeps silent. And Dean stays cold and distant.

"Can't we just ...", Sam blurts out, in between lunch breaks and rest-stops. The silence is deafening.

* * *

What is and never should be, Robert Plant's voice reminds them through the speakers in the car. It's Dean's favourite Led Zeppelin

song, but Sam doesn't think Dean actually listens to any of the words. Just sings along,

not paying attention to whether Sam's asleep or awake.

"I like it when you sing", Sam says, earning a smile from his older brother. "You do, huh?", Dean says and sounds

almost a little surprised, the grin faltering a little, but then that smug look is back on his face.

"Yeah, I've missed it", Sam whispers, and that's when Dean starts to crumble, flinching in his seat.

"But not as much as I've missed you", he deadpans.

* * *

"You know it's not normal right?", Sam sighs, rubbing a hand over his tired face.

"I don't care", Dean says and looks at Sam with eyes that remind Sam of a younger Dean.

A happier Dean.

Back when things were never this complicated. This side of painful.

Sam's lying on the motel bed, stretching his arms behind his back, looking up

at the ceiling with a haunted look in his eyes.

Dean places a kiss on Sam's bruised lips. "Think she's watching?"

* * *

"I'm tired of this", Sam slurs, drunkenly, to the blonde behind the counter, to the guy who sits next

to him, to the girl who's been flirting openly with him for the last half hour.

"Tired of what, cutie?", the blonde asks, an amused smile on his face, he's as gay as they come and

he clearly wants in Sam's pants. Or not. Maybe Sam's just drunk.

"Don't know", Sam answers honestly, drops his hands into the air. "Life", he says eventually, and

makes the bartender laugh. The guy next to him puts his hand on Sam's shoulder, smiles and offers

him a new drink. "Hey, Sam, come over here for a second!", Dean shouts from across the room.

* * *

"I can't stand it when they look at you like that", Dean admits to Sam when they're in the

men's room, taking a piss. Or Sam's taking a piss, Dean's standing behind him, too close, as usual,

pressing into Sam's body so hard that Sam almost can't breathe. "Like what?", he asks even if he knows

the answer, because he knows Dean. Suddenly Dean grips Sam's balls and squeezes so hard he gets tears

in his eyes. "You know damn well what I'm talking about", Dean growls into Sam's ear, squeezing harder,

untill Sam says he's sorry even though he really isn't. Untill Sam asks for Dean's forgiveness even though he doesn't

need it. "No you're not", Dean says, looking hard at Sam. "But you will be".

* * *

I could be on top, you know", Sam says one night. It's more a question than a demand.

Dean gives him a weird look, then shrugs. Laughs a bit uneasily.

"I don't swing that way", he answers eventually.

Sam narrows his eyes. "For a second there, I thought you were gonna say something really stupid".

"Uhuh, like what?", Dean asks, raising one eyebrow at Sam.

"That I'm a total bottom or some shit, that I should let you be the boss of me".

Dean snorts, chuckling under his breath. "I just want to fuck you, Sammy, so can we please get on with it?".

* * *

"So, what do you want to do on your birthday, Sammy?"

Sam doesn't look up from his computer when Dean gets out of the bathroom.

"Nothing", he says, staring intently at the screen. "Nothing at all".

Dean stands over him, dressed only in a towel. "Come on", he says. Playing with Sam's hair,

tugging a little hard, but nothing too painful. "My treat", he says. "Anything you want".

"Well, in that case, how 'bout a day off?", Sam counters, earning an angry glare from Dean. "No seriously", he says.

"How 'bout we play normal for just one day, skip the incest thing ...". He's really not that surprised when Dean hits him.

* * *

"I hate that you're so beautiful", Sam says when they both stands in front of the mirror in the bathroom.

He sobs quietly when Dean puts his arms around him, kissing him gently on the lips. "Shh, shh, Sammy, please don't cry", he whispers.

Sam tries to tear away, but Dean holds on tighter. "I hate you", Sam gasps as Dean moves in behind him.

"Oh god, I hate you so much", he cries, broken and defeated. Letting Dean push him forward, keeping his eyes trained on the mirror.

"So fucking beautiful", he whispers. "This is disgusting", he screams, as Dean places a hand on his lower back.

"It's sick, you're sick, Dean, you shouldn't want this", he continues, but Dean only snorts, pulling down Sam's pants and underwear.

"Hate you", Sam sobs, brokenly. "Hate you. Love you. Love you so much. Oh god, Dean. Dean! Please don't ... don't ever stop".

* * *

"Do you want me to hurt you, Sam?", Dean's voice is barely a whisper.

"No", Sam says, his voice sounding so little and scared. So utterly lost.

"No", he repeats, a little louder, his voice breaking a little. "No ... maybe. Yes".

Dean lies him gently down on the bed, his hands shaking before he gets them under control.

"Do you love me?", he asks, looking at Sam with something akin to hope.

"Too much", Sam says quietly. "It scares me sometimes".

Dean places a chaste kiss on every mark he's ever left on Sam's body, healing them both.

* * *

Feedback is as usual highly appreciated 


End file.
